Pet
by Wolfnight2012
Summary: I was wondering, what ever happened to everyone in The End? What if Castiel survived the Crotes' ambush? How about Lucifer? Doesn't he get lonely with all his brothers gone, left only with demons and humans? Kinda dark, I guess, depending on the person.
1. Prologue

***Disclaimer*, I do not own Supernatural, or any of the characters, nor to I claim ownership. I'm just a fan.**

**Prologue**

Castiel glanced at Dean as he returned alone, without… well, Dean. Past Dean, that is. He blinked and tilted his head, but didn't ask anything. Dean still seemed compelled to answer. "He wasn't going to go through with it, I had to knock him out before he put the entire mission at risk" he said, though he wouldn't look Castiel in the eyes. Castiel blinked slowly, trying to focus through the fresh dose of amphetamines he'd chugged the night before, and the absinthe he'd taken only two hours before that, but again, said nothing. He just tightened his grip on his gun, the only weapon he had now. He knew he couldn't do anything without it. Heck, he could do little with it. He wasn't the best with a gun. He was, actually one of the worst who was still good enough to be taken out on missions.

Castiel hadn't been lying to Dean when he told him of how useless he was. He _knew _just how useless he was. He'd been brought on every mission back when he still had his powers. He'd noticed their dwindling, but hadn't mentioned it to anyone, especially not Dean, though it wasn't as if he hadn't taken notice. Dean just didn't know the extent of his continued failure. His wings were beginning to feel limp, and heavy. Though they were made of pure white light and energy, like the rest of his grace, Castiel could feel them droop, at times it even felt as if he were dragging them. It wasn't like his grace was just gone either, he still had enough to keep him from becoming full human, he had still recognized Past Dean as _Past_ Dean. He could sometimes still feel it inside him, flicking and dancing, like a flame at the end of a near burned-out candle. It was one of the reasons he drowned himself in drugs, being able to feel it, to know how pathetically weak and dim it was, it may very well be worse than not having it there at all. They'd been out on a mission, a hot zone, full of Crotes, and Castiel's mojo had just dropped. He'd been scouting ahead when his wings went limp, it felt a bit like they had shriveled up, like the dimming light which made them suddenly flickered, sputtered, and gave out just as Cas was returning to report back to Dean. He'd fallen on the ground, his eyes wide with disbelief. He couldn't feel them… He _Couldn't Feel Them_! They were gone! His wings…. Castiel stayed on the ground, the shock to great. He was only brought back from his pit of despair when he heard the Crotes coming, many of them. He had to warn Dean! They were coming, they'd been spotted! He stood up, stumbling a bit from the unnatural sensation of being wingless, and began to run. "Dean!" he shouting, rounding a corner. "Cas?" came the reply from Dean, who stood yards away. "They're coming!" Castiel shouted, still running forward, his eyes widening as he spotted six Crotes, all eyeing Dean. "Dean!" he shouted a warning. Dean whirled around and unloaded his gun on the Crotes, but this was a hot zone, that meant more were on their way, if they weren't already here.

They were here. Two Crotes rushed at Dean from their hiding place inside a broken shell of a building. Castiel tackled them, ramming them with his own body; Dean was busy with the four other Crotes which had appeared. Castiel was slammed to the ground, gasping as the breath was knocked out of him. He still wasn't used to that feeling, it had come only recently, and he'd only had his breath knocked out one time before. The Crotes screamed in his face, Castiel tried to shove them off, but his angelic super-strength had long dwindled down to 'just barely above normal human strength' he was no match for two raging Crotes. He kicked one off, then shoved the other one off. They grabbed onto his trench coat and dragged him down again, roughly, his cheek and temple smacking again the cement. There was broken glass everywhere, his face had been lucky to miss most of it, his knees and hands, however, not so much. He grunted, turning over onto his back and kicking the Crote in the face. Its grip slackened, and he managed to pull away just in time to see they were now surrounded by ten more Crotes. Even he knew that Dean's ammunition wasn't infinite, sooner or later he'd run out. Dean was whirling around, trying to see everything at once, trying to keep all their enemies in sight. He had two guns, one in each hand, the barrel aiming in a different direction ever second as he waited for a clear shot.

Three Crotes rushed forward, Dean putting them down with only two bullets. The only problem was that two other Crotes also rushed him from behind. Dean managed to take one down, but the other tackled him; Dean lost one of his guns, it slid from his grasp as his hand smacked against the cement. Ever quick on his feet, Dean still managed to put a bullet in the Crotes' mouth. Castiel was already by his side, "Cas, zap us out of here" Dean said, reaching for his other gun. Castiel's eyes got very big, "Dean I… I ca- look out!" Castiel's confession turned into a warning as the rest of the Crotes rushed forward, all at the same time. Castiel put himself between Dean and the largest group, he tried to extend his wings as well, an invisible barrier between his friend and the enemy, but of course, he ended up just feeling at empty space. Three Crotes tackled him, in a very unususall way. Castiel's foot was twisted beneath him as he fell; he heard a snap, followed immediately by a series of cracks and pops. Castiel's eyes widened and he let out a scream of pain. His foot was on fire! "Cas? Cas!" Dean's worried shout reached Castiel's ears. The Crotes dragged him forward a bit, causing his foot to move; Castiel grimaced and let out another cry of pain. He'd never felt anything like this, this was very real, this was sharp, this burned. Even when Raphael had caused Castiel to explode, there had been no real pain, not as humans experienced it. Castiel was staring up at the Crotes face when half of it was blown off. Many shots rang out, more than what could have come from Dean's weapons. Castiel looked up as the Calvary arrived, five other survivors quickly unloading their weapons on the Crotes. Dean straightened up as the last Crote was shot down.

"Come on, get up, you're okay" Dean said, stretching out his hand to Castiel. Castiel had took it and Dean began to pull him to his feet. Castiel's right foot moved, brushing along the ground, and Castiel grimaced, falling back onto the ground. "Cas? Cas!" Dean said, getting down on one knee, gripping Castiel's shoulders to steady him, and inspecting his friend for injury. "Cas, what's wrong?" he asked, not finding anything expect for minor cuts and bruises. "My… my foot hurts Dean" Castiel managed to get out. "It hurts a lot." Dean looked at Castiel, then at the awkward position his leg was it. He reached out and gently gripped Castiel's shoe, causing Cas to wince. Dean's eyes widened, "I think it's broken" he said, looking back at Castiel's face, as if he couldn't believe he'd just broken his foot. "Come on, let's get back to camp" he said. Castiel looked up at him, "I, I can't move, Dean" he responded. Dean blinked, surprised. "Okay… just… zap us back" he said, as if it were obvious. "I don't have-" Castiel said, though he was unable to finish the sentence. He couldn't _not_ have wings, it wasn't possible, it wasn't natural. "I can't _zap_ anywhere Dean" was all he said instead, his eyes looking very sad as he gazed up at Dean. Dean seemed to ponder this, before nodding to himself. He bent down, placed his right shoulder underneath Castiel's right arm and hoisted him over his shoulder, wrapping his arm around Castiel's legs, grinding his teeth when he felt Castiel's body go ridge as the moment caused pain to shoot up and down his foot. "Dean, this is, demeaning" Castiel said, lifting his head up slightly, he didn't like having it plastered to Dean's back. "We'll, I'm not caring you princess-style, this is more efficient, I'm allowed more maneuverability, my hands are free to hold onto my weapons" Dean said, beginning to walk forward.

"Everyone's weapons checked? Good? Okay, let's go" Dean said. Castiel blinked, returning to the present, his eyes never left his friend's, he knew something was wrong, stoned as he was, and he was _really _stoned, he _knew _something was wrong, but he didn't argue. He trusted Dean. Dean was his best friend. He glanced back down at his gun, remembering how Dean had carried him all the way to camp, taken off his shoe, and confirmed that it was indeed broken.

Castiel pressed his lips together, refusing to let out another cry of pain as Dean fixed his foot. He had no idea what he was doing, but his foot didn't feel fixed… He tightened his grip on the bed, knuckles turning white. Dean seemed to notice this; his own teeth were grinding against each other. Castiel didn't understand why Dean looked as if he were the one who was in pain. "I'm sorry Cas" he said, continuing to bandage his broken foot. Castiel pressed his lips together, "For what?" he asked. It wasn't Dean who was useless, it wasn't Dean who had burden Dean because he had to carry be carried all the way back to camp; it wasn't Dean who'd just lost his wings, rendering him about as useful as a stone. Dean didn't answer, he just straightened up when he was done and walked out, mumbling a barely coherent "I'll be back" before shutting the door behind him. Castiel was left to stare at wall, trying to lose himself, as the pain wouldn't go away. He was pretty sure Dean felt responsible for, well, everything. He blamed himself for the state the world was in, he blamed himself for all the people he lost, he blamed himself for what had happened to Sam, and he blamed himself for what had happened to Castiel. He wasn't sure, but he had suspicions that Dean had guessed why Castiel's powers were just getting weaker and weaker. Dean knew Castiel hadn't had his full powers, such as healing or killing demons, when he was cast out of Heaven. Had he guessed that when the angels left Castiel's own grace had withered?

Dean returned, not having been gone long, and tossed Castiel a small orange tube with a white cap. "Take those" he said, coming to sit beside him. Castiel squinted at the bottle, and the little pills inside, before dropping them back on the bed, "I will not take those" he said, glaring at the wall beside him. He was _still _an angel, wings or no wings. "Cas" Dean said, in his, 'I know better, I'm right, you better do as I say' voice. Castiel shook his head, "No, Dean. I do not take pills" he said, turning his eyes on Dean, allowing him to see the hurt there. He was _still _an angel, angels didn't take pills, humans did. Dean's eyes softened, understanding Castiel's pain, or at least being able to guess what was causing it. "Look man, you either take these, or you remain in pain, it's not going to go away, and if you so much as twitch your leg or cause your foot to be moved, the pain will knife right into you" he said. He picked up the pilled and handed them to Castiel again. "Come on, it'll make you feel better" he said, clasping his hand on his shoulder before leaving. Dean did, after all, have an entire camp of survivors to look after. Castiel looked at the bottle for a moment, then opened it and chugged a few down.

Cas felt… _good_. He did, he felt _good_. Cas, "My name is Castiel" he said, staring at the wall. The pain was… was… _gone_. A lot of things were _gone_, like his wings…. "My wings are _not_ coming back" he said, staring at the near empty bottle of pills. "Doesn't matter, cuz I got this" he said, holding his bottle up. The pills did make him feel better, Castiel realized, Dean was right, again. They made him feel very little, which in turn, made him happy, or at least blissfully ignorant. When he took pills, it took away a bit of his pain. He momentarily forgot about the emptiness behind his back, or his uselessness. He didn't think. He finished his first bottle, and asked Dean for another one sometime around his first month of being bed-ridden. Dean had seemed reluctant to give it to him, so Castiel used this one with moderation, wanting it to last until he was able to get one himself. This was how Castiel figured out how to take just enough pills to make him feel better, but not enough to leave him a drooling mess, giggling at everything and staring at talking walls.

Castiel was better in two months, as soon as he was able to walk around Dean took him out for target practice. He seemed hell bent on teaching Castiel how to hold, reload, aim, and shoot. Basically it was Gun101. He threated to throw away Castiel's pills at one point, when he found them in his pocket. "What's this?" he'd asked, waving the pills in the air. "Concentration medication" Castiel replied, snatching the pills back, a slight smirk on his face. He had then turned around and delivered three shots, each hitting the target. Smiling at his own luck, he'd walked away, his hand in the pocket that contained his pills. "Hey, Cas?" Dean called after him. "Your coat isn't that bad off, you could still wear it" he said. Castiel stopped, his trench coat, the thing he had worn since he first came to earth, into his vessel, Jimmy. It was what Castiel the angel wore, not Castiel the mortal. Useless mortal. It wasn't a part of him anymore... "I don't need it anymore" he said, taking a deep breath, before walking off again.

Castiel stood up and followed the others as they head for the second story window, just as Dean had instructed. Dean gave each man, and woman, a pat on the back as they passed by him. Castiel thought about what had brought them here, the colt. He remembered their early conversation. This plan was still suicidal, but his answer would never change. He smiled a bit as he remembered the look or irritation and betrayal Dean had given him when it had seemed Castiel was siding with Past Dean. It was a bit funny, and confusing, since, technically, Castiel was still siding with Dean. Of course he would follow Dean to the end, because he trusted him, because he was his friend, laughing at Past Dean's comment didn't change that.

Dean had found the colt, and they were doing to use it to kill Lucifer, one of Castiel's strongest siblings, second only to Michael himself. When Castiel walked by Dean, Dean gripped his shoulder, stopping him. Castiel looked at him, confused. Dean eyes looked, weird. He seemed almost remorseful, saddened. He tightened his grip on his shoulder, probably the closest he got to a hug nowadays, and then let go. "Go get 'em" he said, patting Castiel on the back as well, his lip trembled, ever so slightly. Castiel stared at him, receiving a light shove in the direction of the others. He nodded, and walked a bit faster to catch up to everyone else, eyeing the seemingly abandoned building.

**(Excuses, Excuses... I'm not to happy with this chapter, or, not happy at all, BUT, it's okay, cause I have an excuse for it's rushed suckiness. This story was supposed to start at chapter 1, then I found myself writing a prologue...a totally unplanned prologue...)**


	2. Nothing But A Spark

*******Disclaimer*, I do not own Supernatural, or any of the characters, nor to I claim ownership. I'm just a fan.**

**Chapter One**

They were everywhere.…Everywhere. The shots rang out, never ending. They couldn't stop, they barely had time for a breath, they were lucky if they got to reload without getting jumped. The building was crawling with Crotes. They were surrounded, and more just kept pouring in. Everyone was bloody, bruised, running low on ammo, or dead. Castiel breathe hard, panting really, whirling around, eyes scanning the place, not looking for Crotes, the things weren't hiding, but trying to see which were coming closer to him. His gun went off, shooting two in the forehead. His eyes were unusually sharp and focused; nothing like adrenaline, pain, fear, and a building full of Crotes to overcome even the biggest drug abuse. His mind was very clear; he staggered backwards a bit, unsure how much longer they could last like this. He backed up into a wall, his limbs trembling slightly. He knew they weren't going to make it out of this, he knew it. The Crotes had all the exits sealed, they filled the room. Many lay dead, but many more stared at them with crazed eyes, many more rushed at them, to many to shoot down.

They were all going to die. It was painfully obvious. Risa threw her empty gun at the Crotes and picked up another, it was bloody and it belonged to one of the ones who had fallen. She grimanced, bleeding heavily from her side, but she wasn't infected; at least, Castiel didn't think she was. They were all getting pushed together, toward the wall. No matter how many Crotes they shot down, more kept coming. And it wasn't like they came empty handed either, some, many, had shards of broken glass or metal, acquired from the run-down and deserted buildings, in their hands. It was almost as if all the Crotes from this zone had decided to gather here, and wait for them… Castiel's eyes widened. Did Dean know? Was he cornered right now? Was he off, fighting ten or fifteen Crotes at one time, trying to get close enough to kill Lucifer?

Castiel winced; he was bleeding pretty badly from a wound on his left shoulder. It made holding the gun up and steady difficult, the weight of his weapon and exertion of the action causing his beaten up muscles to scream in protest. One of the Crotes, one with a large glass fragment, had taken a swipe at him, grabbed him, digging her fingers and nails into his arm and clawing, and then yanked him down, glass embedded in his shoulder. He'd been done for, until Risa shot the thing in its head. His left leg was also bleeding; it had a large gash on the side of it, extending halfway down his knee and halfway up his knee. He'd gotten it when three Crotes had shoved at him, causing him to become impaled by a sharp shard of metal; it had sliced up his leg as he was pushed back. The injury was causing Castiel to limp heavily, at times dragging his leg entirely, both because of the pain, and the damage to his muscle and nerves. The shard had not just sliced his leg, it had torn into it. A thin trickle of blood streamed down his forehead and the right side of his face, probably his least serious injury- a bump on the head.

Another one fell, unable to keep the waves of Crotes off. No one helped him, no one could. Castiel was already pressed again a wall, Risa was down to her last bullets, and their last comrade standing was cornered by nine Crotes. He seemed to know he was done for, as he unleashed the final bullets of his weapon on the enemy, taking down as many as he possibly could before he was taken down himself.

Castiel looked at Risa, saw his fear reflected in her eyes, though hers shown with a hundred times the intensity. Castiel's main concern was reaching Dean, while Risa's eyes showed her fear of dying; this particular way was very gruesome. She inched her way closer toward him, a gun in each hand. Neither was her's, they still sported the blood of their original owners. Risa's gun had run out a long time ago. Every one of the men on this mission had died using their final bullets to blast a hole into as many Crotes as they could, trying to help out the survivors as much as they could in their final moments. This was why only nineteen Crotes stared back at them now, instead of the original, what? Fifty? Sixty-five? It was still too many, and Castiel could see more climbing up the windows.

"We can either make a run for it" Risa said, trying hard not to double over and clutch at the wound on her side, it was still bleeding profusely, "Or we can take down as many of these bastards as we can before we run out" she finished, taking a deep breath in between her sentences, trying to get a grip on the pain. Castiel looked at her with sad eyes, his entire body trembling with exhaustion and blood loss. Between her stomach/side wound, and Castiel's messed up leg they wouldn't get very far, not to mention their other injures, the blood loss, all the Crotes that would be on their tail. He knew they should stay here and try to take down as many as they could before they were over-powered but, he also knew Dean might be in trouble. He knew Dean had to be warned. This was a trap, it always had been. Dean might be off fighting a mass of the infected humans, and Castiel had to find him, help him, at the very least warn him. He looked at Risa, whose hands trembled as she held her gun, aiming. These were their last bullets, and were therefore also precious. Each shot had to count; each bullet had to take another one of Crotes down. He opened his mouth to speak, unsure of what he was going to say. She shot two, right in the head; a third crouched behind them, avoiding the bullets. It launched itself at Risa, tugging her down much like a lion would a wildebeest. Its right hand tore into her throat, with a ferocity and strength only one infected with the Croatoan virus could.

Risa kept shooting, one hand had dropped its gun, and instinctively going up to grip the thing's wrist, but the other had kept the gun. "Risa!" Castiel cried, putting a bullet in her attacker's head and rushing over. He grabbed her shoulder and began to tug her away, toward the nearest window. They were only on the second story, they could climb right out. His other hand waved the gun wildly, pointing it at every one of the remaining Crotes in turn; he'd shoot whenever one got too close. He panted as he attempted to pull Risa along with him, his arm trembled; the Crotes kept advancing. Castiel kept his wide blue eyes trained on them, though his eyes trailed down to Risa's face often, he didn't realize she was dead until the third time. It wasn't extremely obvious but, he'd just noticed, all of a sudden, that he was hauling a dead body with him. He'd tugged Risa along, stumbled, caught another glimpse of Risa's face, and something, some fluttering, weak but persistent, something deep inside him, just told him that this woman was no long alive. Castiel's eyelids lowered with grief. He couldn't fly, he couldn't protect the survivors, but he still had enough angel mojo to tell the last of this mission was gone. He set her down; aware the remaining Crotes were getting between him, and the window. His eyes darkened, nothing was keeping him from getting to Dean. He'd been nothing but a burden since his powers failed, but he could make it up. He just had to make sure Dean was able to save the remains of the world, stop Lucifer. He _would_ make sure Dean succeeded. He eyed the window, dropped his gun, and lunged the final few feet, plowing through a couple of Crotes, grabbing onto the window and sliding over and out.

Castiel groaned, rolled onto his stomach, and pulled himself to his feet. His right hand cradled his left shoulder, and his left leg dangled uselessly. Everything was grey, the sky full of clouds. Overcast, it hadn't been like this a while ago, when they had entered the building. Castiel grunted, resolved to find Dean, he didn't just have to warn him, he had to inform him that they'd lost their entire squad. Armed with only determination of steel and a sputtering, flickering glow inside him, he began to inch his way forward. He had a bad feeling, one of urgency. Something was happening, something big. He had to find Dean, _now_.

Thunder crashed overhead, Castiel shrunk into on himself slightly, his limbs quivering as his exhausted muscles attempted to do as he commanded, keep moving. His fingers curled around the metal wires of the fence, it extended from the building to several feet before their first position, where they had hid until Dean gave the order, where Past Dean had disagreed with _this _Dean. He felt the fine hairs along his arms and back of his neck rise up. He recognized this, _he_, the real him, the pathetically small grace, angelic force, recognized this, the feeling in the air. Lucifer... His brother was here, he was near, very near.

More thunder. It crashed, loudly, over Castiel's head. His entire body shook with his effort to drag himself forward, he didn't know what drove him in this direction, but he was certain it was the right one. His grace gave a small tug, causing him to wonder if he was being pulled toward Dean, or toward his brother. He round a corner, leaning heavily on the fence that trailed along for several feet, it was almost out, and only trees lay ahead. He wasn't sure he could make it without something to hold him upright.

Swallowing hard, Castiel let go of the fence and stumbled forward, he'd lost so much blood, it'd left a trail behind him, small droplets and puddles indicating which way he'd come from, and where he'd paused for any extended moment, enough for the consistent droplets to form a pool of the red liquid. He was sure a significant amount was smeared on the window he'd crawled out of. It made him so dizzy; he almost didn't remember why he was trying so hard, what was driving him forward. Only one word remained constant in his mind. '_Dean_' he knew he had to find Dean. He had to find Dean… Dean…whose voice he'd just heard, now. The words were hard to comprehend, but they were forceful, the voice behind them full of hurt, pain, sorrow. Then there was more thunder, flashing, he thought he also heard his brother's voice, soft, always soft. Lucifer's presence faded, for a moment Castiel felt nothing, then he felt a brief spark again, another familiar one. Very familiar… Zachariah? It was gone as quickly as it came, too quickly for Castiel's debilitated and unused senses to be sure. He kept going forward however, stepping into one of the only areas in, likely the entire world, which didn't lie in ruins.

Castiel stepped into a small area; it resembled a garden, one that hadn't been cared for properly in some time. It was filled with vegetation, leaves scattered on the ground, rose bushes growing in the corners, a dirty bench with grass growing around its base, a dirty statue of a women dressed in clothing from a time-period that had ended long ago, to which Castiel paid little heed, using it to support his weight, and a fountain who's water had dried up long ago. The area was deserted, Lucifer wasn't here, Dean was nowhere to be found, and Zachariah certainly wasn't here, he'd left… along with all the other angels… long ago. Deciding his human body, damaged as it was, had failed him, fed him incorrect information and that neither Dean or Lucifer had ever been here, Castiel head for the bench, every fiber in body begging him to settle down and leave it rest. He shuffled toward the bench, reaching for it, other hand still holding onto the statue's arm, when he noticed the foot, and then the pants leg; the clothing was unmistakable. "Dean!" Castiel shouted, eyes trailing up the deathly still body to his friend's face, his neck at a weird angle. Castiel rushed forward, or attempted to, as soon as he let go of his support, the statue, his knees gave way.

Like a ton of bricks…Castiel had heard humans say that a lot. Now he finally understood it, he crumbled to the ground in a heap, his body weighing a ton, much, much more than he could hold up on his already unstable and untrustworthy legs. He still attempted to crawl forward. He was, of course, completely dragging his left leg. His left arm was also useless, his shoulder screamed whenever he attempted to move or use his left arm. He still managed to pull himself forward, inching desperately toward Dean. He could feel his angelic essence; though still pitifully small and weak, burn brightly, brighter than it had in years, its protective feelings helping Castiel drag himself along, painfully slow. He stopped while still a foot from Dean, even without touching him, he already knew there was nothing to be protective about. Dean, Dean wasn't here anymore. The small flame inside him roared with disagreement, Castiel could feel its presence as he hadn't in a long time. It almost made him believe it, he wanted to believe it but, even if Dean's deathly stillness, or odd neck angle didn't clue him in, the fact that he could no longer sense Dean there assured Castiel he was gone… dead.

No. Dean could not die. Castiel wouldn't allow it. Digging his hand into the earth, he dragged himself forward until he was close enough to touch Dean. Hand, entire arm actually, shaking, he lifted two fingers and stretched them out until they came in contact with Dean's forehead. Back before the angels left, back when Castiel himself was still and angel, Dean would have healed instantly. But Castiel was no longer an angel; he was more like a human with some angelic residue inside his being. His hand trembled as his entire will focused on Dean, on bringing him back. The rest of the survivors still needed him. He could feel the little glow inside him, inside his chest, swell up and reach toward Dean. Sweat began to form on Castiel's brow, his entire arm shook, but Dean didn't wake up. Castiel narrowed his eyes, complete concentration in his features as he ignored the trembling, which turned to shaking, then evolved into violent tremors that rocked his body. Every part of his being was focused on bringing back Dean, he could feel the small spark inside him, the only thing that kept him from being a human, quiver as well. Everything in his power, he was giving absolutely everything in his power, yet Dean remained the same. '_No_….' he thought, his body feeling as if it were about to give way. _No_…. He… he couldn't let this happen. He couldn't fail again… he couldn't fail Dean again… He couldn't be this useless…

Castiel ignored the tremors, he just focused on bringing Dean back, he was close, he could feel it. His breathing was labored, something inside his chest was wrenching, threatening to crumble, but he was close. His hand was shaking nearly as much as the rest of his body; he pressed his fingers harder onto Dean's forehead. Each of his breaths took a tremendous effort, his eyes felt like they wanted to roll into the back of his head, his body wanted to collapse, but he wouldn't, he couldn't, not until Dean was breathing again. He was so intent on his efforts, his last act, that he didn't hear, didn't see, didn't recognize the intruder walking into this moment until he stood right beside him. "Oh brother, what has been done to you?" was all he heard, before two gentle fingers pressed lightly against his forehead and he sunk into blackness. All he could think was '_No! Dean!_' before his body completely succumb to unconsciousness and he slumped at the intruder's white shoes.

**(Wrote this at 1:30a.m.! Yeah! *Fistpump* I was bored and I 'wasn't' tired, so I wrote this. Alright! ... I promise the nect chapter will be written after I've had at least 7 hours of sleep. Anyways, I rewatched the scene from Dean waking up to Zachariah taking him back to 2009 over and over to describe the garden-thingy. Hope I got it right-ish. =D )**


	3. Left Alone

***********Disclaimer* I do not own Supernatural, or any of the characters, nor to I claim ownership. I'm just a fan.**

**Chapter Two**

It was almost humorous. Almost. The cockroach. The human, brother to his vessel… The one known as Dean Winchester, coming at him with The Colt. Thinking he could really kill him. The Colt was a special little gun, built to kill anything, anything of course, except for five things; that he knew of. Lucifer happened to be one of those things. Lucifer had turned around to greet the… _thing's_ presence, and had received a bullet to the head. He hadn't even staggered, hadn't even flinched. He'd just blinked his eyes, the injury gone. At that, the hunter's eyes had widened. Had Lucifer not been in his true vessel, had he still been in Nick, for instance, he might have felt the blow harder, might have fallen back, might have been injured, actually injured. But he was at his full strength with Sam. Dean's eyes had narrowed, and he'd let another bullet fly into Lucifer's forehead. Now annoyed, Lucifer had swatted the weapon away and clutched Dean's throat in his hand's in the next second. Dean had gurgled as the mighty fallen archangel's powerful grasp crushed his windpipe. Though wheezing, he still managed to glare at the archangel with all his might, though his lungs were screaming. Lucifer raised an eyebrow; he could feel Sam inside begging him not to do this. He might have considered it, had Dean not shot the second bullet into his skull. He let go on Dean's throat. Out of oxygen, his muscles were unable to hold him up. He crumbled to the ground, still glaring at Lucifer. 'It'll be quick Sam, I promise' Lucifer had said, before putting the sole of his shoe on Dean's neck. He pressed, and the elder Winchester's neck snapped. He could feel Sam pounding against his skull, threating to kill him. He'd been mostly quiet for a long time now, but seeing his brother die made him surge back up with renewed strength. 'Such loyalty' Lucifer thought. 'Such love.' It was hard to believe the humans were capable of feeling so much, though Lucifer didn't think it held a candle to his immense love for his own brothers. Then he felt _it_, again, Dean. Confused, he turned around, to stare Dean in the face once more. For less than a second he wondered if the Dean at his feet was nothing more than a trick, if this Dean held a second weapon with which he hoped to kill Lucifer with. A plan B. Then the wondering was over, as he quickly realized this Dean was no of this time. "Oh" he said, the only thing that betrayed his surprise. "Hello Dean."

Lucifer wasn't as easy going Gabriel… Gabriel, his most lovable brother, he was always happy, he'd been so torn up when the fighting started… He'd begged them to stop, he'd insisted to Lucifer the hairless apes weren't worth it, he'd told Michael to give Lucifer more time to come to his senses, he'd urged Raphael not to take sides… Lucifer missed him so… He hadn't heard from him since his banishing, at all. He'd been so torn up, his eyes never leaving Lucifer's as the elder archangel fell, hard and fast. He'd looked like he wanted to take flight and save him, bring him back, but there was no going around Big Brother Michael. He wondered how his little brother had faired afterwards; he knew the fighting had continued long after he was gone. He also knew how much his easy going brother hated to see his family fight.

Lucifer may not be as easy going as Gabriel, but he also wasn't a stiff like Raphael. Raphael had stood quietly by Michael's side as the eldest of all, angels and archangels alike, was informed he had to cast Lucifer out. He'd looked Lucifer right in the eyes, the pain there evident, he was still losing a big brother, but there was no sympathy for the rebellious archangel. Lucifer had dared to disobey; now he had to suffer the consequences. He had stood awful close to Michael as Lucifer fell, as if seek reassurance and comfort; ignoring the wrenching cries and pulls of Gabriel's grace as no one so much as flinched by the sight of the second oldest archangel falling. And yet, Lucifer still missed him, he missed him dearly, as dearly as he did Gabriel.

If he wasn't like Gabriel or Raphael, Lucifer definitely wasn't anything like his older brother. Michael was absolute, Michael was wrath itself… Michael always had an air of seriousness and somberness about him… Michael knew his role, he _always _he his role. While Gabriel held himself with ease, Raphael with uncomfortable stiffness, Michael just held himself high and tall, he knew what he was, he was the oldest of all, he was Heaven's most powerful weapon, he was the commander of the Host of Heaven, he was a big brother to… millions of angels, though three stood out among the rest. To the untrained eye Michael was a prick, to Lucifer he was the archangel on which the weight of the world, the eternity that had already occurred and the eternity which was yet to transpire, rested on. Those blinding bright white wings carried more weight than Lucifer could have ever hoped to understand. He'd wondered, while caged in Hell, whether his brother had always known what he was meant to do. Was that why the air around the solid, stern, and unmovable archangel had always bordered on sorrowful?

Lucifer loved Michael, he loved his brothers, all of them, even those created after Michael, himself, Gabriel and Raphael; the angels… their power significantly smaller than that of even the youngest archangel. Lucifer was closest with the archangels, and of them, he held Michael the dearest. But he would take anything he could get, he left so alone on earth. He could feel it, one of his brothers, close. He looked the Winchester up and down; the grace flowed around Dean, ready to pull him back in an instant. "You've come a long way to see this, haven't you?" he asked, though he already knew. Dean didn't answer at first, and when he did, it wasn't to Lucifer's question. "Well, go ahead. Kill me" he said, ever the valiant one. "Kill you?" Lucifer echoed, looking at the body of present Dean, ignoring Sam's screams. He'd just seen his brother die; he wasn't going to do it again. He pound against his mind, unable to take control. 'I wonder if I could do what you just did' he told Sam, as he spoke with Dean as well. 'Kill my brother, my older brother… who practically raised me' he said. He could hear Sam growl incoherently inside his own mind, pinning it all on Lucifer. 'Whose foot snapped his neck?' Lucifer asked. 'Come on Sam, it's not like you hadn't been itching to do that for a while now. The guy did abandon you for five years.' He listened to Sam snarl inside his mind, as he told Dean of how he fell from grace. Sam then switched from growled at him, to screaming at his brother not to listen, to run.

Lucifer didn't want to leave; he could feel the presence of one of his brothers hovering along the timeline, just out of reach. He knew that his brother wouldn't come retrieve Dean until Lucifer was gone. He also knew that even if he made a move to harm the Winchester he still wouldn't get but a glimpse of his sibling before the angel pulled Dean out of harm's way. His family wanted nothing to do with him, didn't even want to look at him. They'd all left; when they'd seen the war was lost they'd left. All of them. There wasn't even a trace angelic essence, angelic grace, left in the entire planet. No matter how far he stretched his power he couldn't feel anything but a vast emptiness. Nothing but human cockroaches and vile demons left. There was no use wasting his time here, his brother wouldn't show up so long as he stood in sight. After bidding Dean farewell, and having Dean swear to kill him, he opened up his wings and flew away. For a split millisecond he felt his brother's grace enter his time, unmistakable; Zachariah. Then it was gone, and Lucifer was once more left alone.

It was faint. It was so incredibly faint that, at first, Lucifer was sure it was just an echo, a fading 'aftertaste' of Zachariah's grace as it bend time to reach the year 2014. It took Lucifer a moment to realize that this was not some aftertaste of the power and effort it took for Zachariah to bend time, it was another angel entirely, and it was still here. He perked up, about to follow the grace when he truly realized what he'd sensed. The grace, which ever sibling it belonged to, had been so weak that he'd mistook it for fading remains of Zachariah's power. But it wasn't an echo; it was all the angel had left. Lucifer's eyes widened, could an angel's grace really dwindle to that, near nothing? With that, an angel would not only be unable to fly. Completely conscious of his own wings as he spread them, he took off; landing in the same garden in which he'd snapped Dean's neck earlier, in less than a second. There he came upon a sorry sight. The angel was hardly an angel any more, he didn't even have wings. It was broken, in more ways than one, one of them being the very literal human way- its vessel was near death. It had internal bleeding, broken bones, torn up muscles and skin, it had nearly bleed out and yet, the grace had not healed it, it hadn't even tried. All its efforts were focused on Dean. It was evident the 'angel' was attempting to bring the Winchester back to life. An impossible task. The grace, the energy, what made an angel, An Angel, was too weak. It too, was dying, down to its last embers. Lucifer knew his brother would die before bringing Dean Winchester back to life. He not only had to heal the human's injures, he also had to pull him back from the dead, and the grace was much too weak to do either. It would burn out completely before it even neared its task.

The vessel trembled in its efforts to keep itself upright, just enough to keep his fingers on Dean Winchester's forehead. The grace inside also trembled, violently, it was fighting hard, trying not to let itself be extinguished before the task was complete. It sputtered and Lucifer's own murky and twisted grace tightened in response, gripped with fear. This was his last brother, and he was about to leave as well. Lucifer couldn't allow that to happen. He didn't want to be alone, angels weren't meant to be alone, that's why they were created in garrisons. He had been resigned to remain alone the rest of his existence, but now that he'd stumbled upon one of his brothers, close enough for his grace to react, to pull toward the only other angel in range; he wasn't so keen to the idea. He finally had a brother back, it didn't matter that it wasn't Michael, Gabriel, or Raphael. He stepped closer, realizing his brother's time was nearly out.

Nearly everything had gone to the Winchester, who remained the same. His brother looked sick, nearly as bad as the vessel. Lucifer reached down slowly, unnoticed, "Brother, what _has _been done to you?" he asked, a sincere question, before he pressed two gentle fingers to his brother's forehead, bringing about unconsciousness. He dropped at his shoes, only intensifying the look of weakness, helplessness. No angel should look like this; no angel should be reduced to this. He looked so very… human at the moment, which was about the worst thing possible, in Lucifer's eyes. He got down on one knee, studying him. It was hard to work with what he had; the grace was so pitifully small and pathetically weak, it was like trying to identify a person beaten to a bloody pulp, and starved… Lucifer narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. "Castiel?" he said, completely unsure. The grace flickered in response, so Lucifer knew he had gotten it right. "Well brother, you _are_ a sorry sight" he said, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. He remembered Castiel, the Angel of Thursday. He was fairly young, by angel standards, and was a part of one of the last garrisons created, a part of… Uriel's and…Balthazar's. He, like everyone else, had watched Lucifer as he fell. Lucifer picked him up in his arms, no matter; he would take what he could get. He felt better already, he hadn't even noticed he had needed to feel better, but now with Castiel close, he did. He wasn't a garrison, he wasn't The Host of Heaven, he wasn't an archangel, but he was still his brother and that helped Lucifer feel content. It was making Castiel feel better too, he realized. Being so close to an archangel, even for such a short time, was doing wonders on his own grace. It no longer looked in danger of sputtering out. Lucifer smiled, his grace, twisted though it was, was still second in size only to Michael's, he was _still_ an archangel. He was as good to Castiel as an entire garrison. Who ever said the devil was selfish?

Lucifer stood up, not giving Dean Winchester's body a second look. Castiel, however, wasn't so keen on leaving behind what he'd nearly died trying to bring back. His grace tugged sluggishly back toward Dean. 'None of that' Lucifer thought, tucking his little brother closer to his chest. Castiel was a little brother, in every sense. Castiel was younger, smaller, weaker. He was a child compared to the significantly older and extremely more powerful archangels, all angels were.

Lucifer continued to walk forward for a bit, he wasn't going to lose his last brother. He didn't want to be alone, on this beautiful planet, with only humans and demons for company. He refused to let his last brother leave him too, he **_would _**_**not **_be alone anymore, he_ wouldn't_. He smiled softly at his younger brother, 'It's okay' he thought, he could feel his little brother's grace respond to his own. 'I won't let anything happen to you, little brother, you'll be safe with me' he thought. It was true, if he remained by his side Lucifer's immense, though murky, grace would be enough to sustain Castiel. He would no longer be this shell of an angel, this near human thing. Lucifer wasn't a selfish creature; it benefited Castiel to remain by his side…. He spread his wings and took off, the little angel still tucked to his chest.

**Okay, sooo did not mean for this to turn into chapter two from Lucifer's pov. It was supposed to jump straight into what will now have to be ch3. I just began to write a paragraph about Lucifer to get me started, and this came out... =/**


	4. The Reunion

***************Disclaimer* I do not own Supernatural, or any of the characters, nor to I claim ownership. I'm just a fan.**

**Chapter Three**

It was a bed. A real bed, not like the ones commonly found now a days. It wasn't just springs; it had a soft, cushiony mattress as well and soft, silky covers. The bed was made, and Castiel lay on top of the covers, not sleeping, just out of consciousness. He opened his eyes as the power that had held him under loosened its grip. He was on his back. He rolled onto his side slowly, still feeling a little out of it. He was in a room. It was a plain room, four walls, a door at the west wall, a large window at the east wall, the bed pushed [long ways] against the north wall, and nothing on the south wall. The ceiling, except for the light, was as bare as the south wall. The floor was covered in plush, deep red carpet. This all registered at the back of Castiel's mind, but it wasn't what he noticed, what he paid attention to, what made his eyes widen, what stunned him; because as soon as he rolled onto his side he realized-

his wings were back…

Castiel bolted into an upright position. His wings were back! He could feel them, he could feel the power they bore, he could feel their weight, their light, their essence, all strapped on to his back. Unsure and not ready to believe in such a miracle, Castiel tested them out. He unfurled them to their full length, stretching them out and spreading out the 'feathers'. He could feel the light reaching out in every direction, stretching out further. It was the equivalent of a human's muscles trembling during a good morning stretch. He brought them back down and folded them easily, neatly, onto his back. They were really there, and they were just as they had been before. They weren't limp, dull, dim, or withered.

Castiel was so absorbed in the fact that he once again had his wings that it took him a while to truly notice where he was. He slid his feet off the bed, his shoes sinking into the plush carpet. Still mesmerized by the power and feel of his wings, it took him a while to pay attention to his clothes. His shoes were, well, shoes, 'real' shoes, dress shoes, black and a bit shiny. They were the same shoes his vessel had been wearing when he'd first said yes. The same went for his black slacks, tie, shirt…. He was wearing everything he used to wear…_that_ got his attention of his wings long enough for him to glance around and finally give the room a good look.

It was dawn, the sun was just breaking over the horizon, Castiel could see it from his window. He slowly stood up and walked up to the huge glass surface, it took up most of the east wall. He glanced out, looking at the broken buildings, dirty streets; the city, lying in ruins….just as he'd left it. Blinking, he backed away, thinking back to all that had happened before this point. They had been about to take down Lucifer, they'd been ambushed, Dean had… _Dean! _Castiel got into a fighting stance. He shouldn't be here, he shouldn't have wings… he had no idea how he'd gotten here, but he did know where he _had_ to be. He unfurled his wings, he had to help Dean. He'd figure out why he had woken here, and how he'd gotten his wings back, but first, first he _had_ to go help Dean. His wings stretched out to their full length, preparing to take flight. He wasn't even able to flap them once. He had his destination in mind, he'd been about to test out their full capabilities, when they went limp then folded back up neatly behind his back.

Castiel struggled to unfurl his wings, but they didn't even twitch. "Leaving so soon?" said a very familiar voice, in more ways than one. Castiel turned around slowly, though he didn't have to train his vessel's eyes on the creature to know who it was. Lucifer starred at him from behind Sam's skin, leaning on the doorway. The grace was unmistakable, as was Sam's voice. "Castiel, I'm hurt" Lucifer added. "Lucifer" was all Castiel had said, trying desperately to flap his wings. "Come on, Castiel, you really think you can fly away if an _archangel_ doesn't want you too?" Lucifer asked, shrugging off the doorway and walking forward. Castiel starred at him, starred at Sam, whom he hadn't seen since Dean had cut him out of his life, and, subsequently, out of his life as well.

"What do you want?" Castiel asked, knowing he was no match for his brother, and that if he didn't get away soon he'd never have a chance to help Dean. "I just wanted to see my brother, is that too hard to believe?" Lucifer asked. "Yes" Castiel answered truthfully, glancing around the room, looking everywhere but at Lucifer. He heard a sigh, and felt something very close to sorrow emit from his brother's grace, probably the closest he could come to the feeling. Lucifer took another step toward him, reaching out, and Castiel took a few steps back in response, pondering over how he could fight, or if he was strong enough to survive the fall out the window. He felt stronger…he no longer felt pain, or fatigue, or hunger. Lucifer looked disappointed for an instant; he then looked down at the carpet and brought his hand back down to his side. "I'm not what you think, Castiel" he said, glancing at where the carpet met with the south wall. "I won't hurt you" he finished. It wasn't hard to see Castiel didn't believe him; he wasn't trying to hide it either.

Castiel didn't move another inch, he stood completely still for a long time. He stared at Lucifer until the fallen archangel sighed once more, "Look what I did for you" he said. "I gave you your wings back, Castiel, we are brothers why would-" "You _fell_, you rebelled, you destroyed humanity" Castiel said, inching closer to the window. He was fairly certain he was strong enough to survive the fall. "You fell" Lucifer repeated. "You rebelled. You were abandoned here, along with me, to rot among the scum left on earth. Can you blame me for trying to clean up my new home a little?" he asked. "Earth is not your home" Castiel retorted quickly, his shoulders tensing. "You cannot mean it belongs to the humans?" Lucifer said, "If I hadn't come along they would have destroyed it by now anyways. Croatoan virus or no Croatoan virus, they would have destroyed each other, and taken the planet down with them. I won't destroy the planet" he said. Castiel narrowed his eyes, sliding back another inch.

"You have fallen, Castiel, worse than that; you have been abandoned by The Host of Heaven, by your garrison. If you leave me, your powers will dwindle back down to nothing. You will essentially be a mortal. If you stay with me, you'll keep your wings, you will remain an angel, and you won't be alone" Lucifer said. "I wasn't alone" Castiel said, taking another step back, his shoe hitting the wall. This was as close as he could get, now he just had to wait for an opportunity.

"You mean the Winchester, do you not?" Lucifer stated more than asked, walking back toward the bed and slowly sinking down onto the mattress. Castiel's eyes followed him, becoming more tense the second his friend's name [er, last name] left Lucifer's lips, which was how he came to notice the trench coat lying on top of the bed, next to the wall. "How did you get that?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. He'd disposed of that, a long time ago. Lucifer didn't answer his question; he just stared at the wall. "Please don't try to jump out the window" he said, causing Castiel to stiffen. He glared at him, not budging, though not making a move to jump out either. "Why do you think you are here, Castiel? Don't you think you'd already be hurt, if that was the reason I'd brought you here?" Lucifer asked.

Castiel didn't answer; he just started at his trench co- his vessel's trench coat. "How did you get that?" he repeated, glancing at Lucifer. "I heard you liked it, that you'd grown attached to it" Lucifer began, looking at the tan coat. He then switched his attention to Castiel. "I want you to be happy" he said, elbows and forearms resting on his knees. Castiel looked away, not in disgust, but in thought. "Allow me to save Dean Winchester then" he said finally. There was a pause; Castiel forced himself to look at Lucifer. "Please" he said, surprising both himself and his brother, "I just need a minute. I'll bring him back, then I'll return" he continued. He, unblinking, as always, dared add "I'll stay here, at your side. I'll never leave. I just need to do this one thing."

Lucifer seemed to think about this for a moment before he beckoned for Castiel to come forward with a wide gesture using his entire forearm. Castiel didn't budge, but he didn't have to. He felt his feet slid forward, his wings beat uselessly, barely a wind created, as they were still folded against his back. He came to a stop beside the bed, his pants' leg brushing against the bed's soft covers. He jerked back in surprise and tensed up unintentionally. Angels weren't used to being dragged around or forced like this, especially not when they could feel their full power, barely contained inside their vessel. He glanced up at Lucifer, his gaze hard, his grace swelled up inside him, ready to smite whatever dared treat him like a ragdoll. Lucifer, however, was not smiteable, at least not by Castiel. Lucifer pat the bed then, as if he knew Castiel needed a more direct gesture, motioned for him to sit. Without his consent, his vessel sat. "This is all so very, human, of you, Lucifer" he said, a voice warning him not to taunt the archangel. He was no use to Dean if he exploded.

"You see Castiel, I can't do that. I can't let you bring the Winchester back. Not only is he a terrible nuisance, but I don't want him near you. I know very which one of us you'd choose if given the chance, even though I'm your brother, and this vessel is the Winchester's brother, another one of your favorite pets, you'd still choose Dean." Lucifer said, eyes full of sorrow. Castiel looked at his hands, "No, I wouldn't" he said. "I just _need _to do this" he added, "He doesn't even need to know I did it, I can block the memory of his death" he looked up at Lucifer. "_Please_" was all he could say, his bright blue eyes wide and pleading. Lucifer swallowed, eyes seeming to pity his little brother. "I'm sorry Castiel" he said slowly, regrettably, before his hand flashed forward, gripping the back of Castiel's neck. The movement was so fast Castiel didn't have time to do anything except stiffen. Lucifer tightened his grip, his thumb pressing on to the skin just below his ear, and his index and middle finger putting pressure on the back of his head. "No" Castiel said, though feebly, before his eyes rolled into his head and his body went limp. He crumpled, his body falling over, his shoulder hitting Lucifer's chest. Lucifer caught him before he could topple forward and fall on the ground. His fingers slid up, threading through the vessel's hair and pressing to the skull. He closed his eyes and entered his little brother's mind.

***Am I a tease? I feel like I dangled Lucifer/Castiel in this chapter... but sorry, it's not that type of fic.***


	5. Rewriting Our History

**I am so sorry this took so long... school's became overwhelming for a while... But tests are approaching, which means more cramming, less homework [I hope] **

**Chapter Four**

Castiel was angry. Angels weren't used to feeling powerless, or being handled as if they _were_ powerless. Angels hardly ever lost consciousness, only when they near drained their power during a fight did they ever succumb to such mortal things. Angels _did not_ get forced into unconsciousness. He glanced around the dark room, ready to fight. He took a step forward…and felt something tug at his ankle in response. He glanced down, and was met with the sight of his left ankle, his left ankle with a thick metal clamp on it; it was connected to a large chain, which was in turn connected to the floor. He tilted his head, studying the chain. He shouldn't have felt it; it should have broken the moment he took a step. He jerked his leg; the chain became taunt, halting Castiel's movements. He narrowed his eyes and stretched out his wings; no chain could hold an angel, it was like expecting them to be stopped by a simple door. He flapped his wings. The chain would not let him go; it dug into his ankle and held him tethered to the ground. His wings beat furiously, but he didn't budge, just hovered a couple of feet from the chain's origin, resembling a balloon…one that fought against the string that held him, however fruitless it might be.

"Stop it Castiel, it's no use" a voice said, behind him. Castiel landed and whirled around to face Lucifer, his wings spread out and low, a defensive crouch. This time, his brother was not in Sam's body, but in Nick's, Lucifer's previous vessel. Lucifer looked around the room, then down at his vessel. "Really, Castiel, you _have_ been with the humans too long" he said. Castiel tried to take a step toward him, but the chain held him back. "What is this?" he asked, referring to how metal chains could contain him. "Release me" he added, his voice shaking with power, though Lucifer seemed unimpressed.

"This" Lucifer said, motioning to the entire room, "Is _your_ coping mechanism." Castiel tilted his head to the side, thoroughly confused. Sensing he needed to explain further, Lucifer took a deep breath. "We're inside your mind. You're on lock-down. _This _is your mind's way of coping with being tied down inside your vessel. As you know, angels don't sleep. We also don't lose consciousness, not in the same way humans do" he said. Castiel's eyes still betrayed his confusion; Lucifer began to walk around the room, his circling brining him closer to where Castiel stood- chained. "I am surprised… to say the least. Even if other angels envisioned themselves in their vessel, as I'm sure many would do if they were inside their vessel at the moment in which they lost consciousness…. Not many would envision themselves chained…" Lucifer looked at Castiel, then down at the metal chain. "Most would see themselves trapped inside a circle of holy fire, _not_ such a _human_ contraption. Chains do not hold angels, Castiel, _why _would _you _see that in your own _mind_?" Lucifer asked, sounding genuinely curious. Castiel was at a loss for words. _Why_ would an _angel_ envision himself in chains? Had Castiel really fallen so far? Lucifer continued to speak, "It is also why you see me in this body, not in Sam's, you'd rather I be in _this_ vessel… Though any other angel would have seen my true form standing before them, not that of my vessel" Lucifer added, hitting another nerve, whether he knew it or not. "You forget… I have been… essentially human these past years" Castiel said at last, though even he knew it was an excuse.

"Where would it have stopped?" Lucifer wondered out loud, or perhaps Castiel was better attuned to his thoughts while his brother's grace and his own shared his mind… Lucifer halted a couple of feet from Castiel, staring into space. "Believe me, Castiel, I do this for your own good" he said. Castiel's wings twitched, he didn't like the sound of that, it sounded foreboding.

A filing cabinet appeared in front of Lucifer, it had just two drawers labeled very simply: **Before** and **After**. Lucifer opened the second, **After**, and began to rummage through it. "Another coping mechanism, I'm afraid" he said to Castiel, keeping his eyes trained on the flies he was going through. "It would be very inefficient if our minds were truly organized like this." Castiel had no idea what Lucifer was talking about, or didn't have any idea, until he pulled a file out.

_"I'll hold them off. I'll hold them all off! Just stop Sam"_ Castiel blinked as he relived the memory of his rebellion, he'd sent Dean to stop a prophecy- _the prophecy_. He'd stayed behind to hold back Raphael as long as he could, an attempt to give Dean more time. His older brother had caused him, and his vessel, to explode. The memory stopped just after Raphael killed him, Lucifer having closed the folder once more. "This is what you were doing while I was getting out of my cage?" Lucifer asked. He looked up from the cabinet and, to Castiel's surprise, he didn't look angry, at least not at him. "You fell, for the hairless ape?" Lucifer said, though it wasn't exactly a question. "My, Castiel, I believe you make even me look bad… You attempted to stop a prophecy?" he said, a bit of humor in his voice. It died quickly, however. "You let Raphael destroy you, just for the Winchester? Castiel, you couldn't really have believed in what the ape was saying… free will over paradise?" Castiel stayed silent, he didn't even look in his brother's direction. He could feel Lucifer's gaze on him, it was a few moments before his attention returned to the file cabinet.

Lucifer didn't put the file back; instead he set it on top and took out another. _"Destiny? Don't give me that Holy crap. Destiny, God's plan… It's all a bunch of lies, you poor, stupid, son of a bitch! It's just a way for your bosses to keep me and keep you in line!" _Castiel closed his eyes, though of course, he couldn't escape his memories, especially not in his own mind. He relived the events of the Green Room, where Dean had convinced him to side with Humanity, to rebel… He was all too aware of the fact that Lucifer was getting a good look at all of his thoughts, memories, and emotions. He didn't like it; it felt much like being spied on. The worst part was being unable to do anything about it. Lucifer closed the file as Castiel spread his wings and flew away, leaving Dean alone with his frustration, anger, and desperation.

"You let that _vermin_ talk to you like that?" Lucifer said, though the answer was obvious, it was all over the files. "I was hoping his hand would break when he took a swing at you" he added, placing the file on top of the previous one. He looked like he wanted to say more, but decided to wait, instead taking out another file.

_"We're here for Anna" Castiel said, looking at Dean. Beside him, Uriel glared at the demon at the Winchesters' side. Both angels wanted to smite her, but Castiel knew his sister was more important at the moment. "Here for her like… here for her?" Dean asked, getting suspicious._ He was always a quick one, just not when it came to academics_. Anna was a sister, she'd fallen, what seemed like only a moment ago in Angel-time; that was why they were so surprised when she popped up again, seemingly only seconds after voluntarily falling. Now she was essentially human, her grace was gone, it was no wonder she remained undetected, even after her more angelic side was awaked by the commotion in Heaven, over Dean Winchester. Add on top of all that that the Host of Heaven wasn't even looking for their fallen sister… Castiel was taken by surprise when his superiors told him what had become of their sister, that she was now being tracked by demons, and that she had to die. He wondered, for a brief moment if she'd return to Heaven…. She was essentially human; she might get the chance to return home…_

Lucifer starred at the memories of Anna, he put the file down and pulled out the one containing the moment in which Anna recovered her grace. He then closed it as well and set it down gently. Lucifer, being stuck in the cage, hadn't known of Anna's [literal] fall from grace. It seemed to take him a moment before he could move on and grab another file.

_Castiel flew in as fast as he could, grabbed Dean and placed his hand over his mouth, looking him in the eye. Dean understood quickly enough, he was being asked to remain quiet. Castiel then sliced into his skin and set to work drawing a sigil. He had decided. He did not want Dean mad at him. He did not want to see the hurt in Dean's eyes. The world meant a lot to Dean. Sam meant the world to Dean. Castiel was going to help him save both. "Castiel! Would you mind explaining just what the Hell you're doing?" Zachariah demanded. Castiel quickly pressed his bloody hand onto the wall, sending his superior away. He had officially rebelled. _

"For a Winchester" Lucifer repeated, disgusted, as he closed the file. Castiel watched him warily, occasionally giving the chain a jerk. "The sad part is, Castiel, you don't believe a word of Dean's lies" he said. "Do you honestly believe that you _believe_ in what you did?" he asked. Castiel stayed silent, unsure of what he was getting at. He'd rebelled, hadn't he? He'd given so much up; he'd abandoned his home, his family, for this. "No you didn't" Lucifer said, looking his brother in the eye. "You did it for you Winchester" he finished. Castiel narrowed his eyes, "Think about it, brother. The Apocalypse. The prize fight. The intensity of it would rock the planet, and take many lives. But all those soul would find themselves in Heaven, at peace. Then, after Michael's side won, if he did win, it would be Heaven on Earth. Now, you tell me, did you really believe free will was better than our home? Castiel, we spend our entire lives without knowledge of the word, you expect me to believe you'd die for it?" he said, hand digging into the metal of the filing cabinet. "Yes" was all Castiel answered, standing perfectly still. Lucifer's lips pulled up in a slight smile, "No, Castiel… You could care less about freedom, free will; it's all an illusion in the end, anyways. What you cared about, was the Winchester, what _it_ thought of you… how _it _felt. You rebelled, just so as to not see that expression on the Winchester's face, to not feel the resentment roll off in waves as soon as you entered the room, to make him happy" he said. Without tearing his eyes away from his younger brother, Lucifer took out another file.

_"What the hell?" Dean said, shocked and thoroughly surprised as Alastair was hit with a bolt of lightning and disappeared. "Guess again" Castiel answered, letting himself be known. Dean turned to look at him with a confused expression on his face. "What just happened?" Castiel asked the question for him, as it seemed the Winchester wouldn't be able to find his voice for a while. "You and Sam just saved a seal" he answered a moment later, letting the revelation sink in before continuing with "We've captured Alastair." Dean still didn't say anything; Castiel couldn't get the slightest hint of joy or satisfaction from Dean after having received the news. "Dean, this was a victory" he said, looking the human in the face, wondering what still troubled him. "Well, no thanks to you!" Dean finally spoke. Castiel studied him, "What makes you say that?" he said, still starring at Dean. "You were here, the whole time?" Dean responded, a bit taken back. "Enough of it" Castiel admitted. Dean's surprise quickly turned to anger "Well, thanks for your help with the rock salt" he said bitterly. "That script on the funeral home- We couldn't penetrate it" he said. "That was angel-proofing" Dean said, matter-of-factly. "Why do you think I recruited you and Sam in the first place?" Castiel asked. "You recruited us?" Dean asked, incredulous. "That wasn't your friend Bobby who called, Dean" Castiel answered._

Castiel closed his eyes, yes Dean had fought him, nearly every step of the way, but hadn't he been justified to? The next time they spoke, Castiel had asked him to torture, something he knew very well Dean Did Notwant to relieve…. And he'd foolishly believed it was God's work. Dean had nearly been beaten to death because of Castiel's flawed judgment, and Uriel's betrayal. "How about that?" Lucifer said. "He didn't even thank you for saving him from Alastair, a demon I heard he had quite the reason to fear" he added. Castiel's gaze hardened. "I do not see the point in this. I know my memories, angels do not forget. What do you gain by viewing them?" he asked. "I just want to see why" Lucifer said. "I want to understand why you would fall for- _him_. Why you continued by his side, though it was his fault you lost your wings. He dragged you down with him Castiel, and you went along with a smile on your face and not so much as a speck of resistance" he added, before pulling out another file.

_"Tell me something, Dean. When your father gave you and order, didn't you obey?" Castiel asked Dean as the older Winchester prepared to argue with the angels. Their superiors had alerted them of another seal that was about to be broken, by a witch. The raising of Samhain had to be stopped, but the angel's couldn't find the witch. It meant it was up to the Winchesters. Before being sent out, Castiel, captain of his garrison, was pulled aside and told that he had to find Dean and give him a choice, destroy the town, annihilate the witch, and save the seal, or locate the witch and obliterate her, all the while taking the risk that she might succeed before they found her. Uriel was to come with him, incase Dean picked the logical choice, Castiel had to keep him in line in case Dean went with the sentimental choice. The first thing they had felt when they arrived at the Winchester's room was the hex bag. So the witch already knew the Winchester were on her trail… Then the two brothers arrived, Castiel gave them the choice, all the while making Dean believe he had created the choice. The elder Winchester never suspected it had all been planned. Uriel still wanted to purify the town and be done with it. Castiel wished he had his brother's steel resolve. He wasn't as sure of himself, or his actions. _

_"You must understand why I can't intercede" Castiel said, turning around to face Dean, who had been about to storm away. Dean had prayed, _Dean Winchester_ had prayed. He'd begged for help, and it had torn Castiel apart to know he couldn't help, he _shouldn't _help. He'd felt Dean's desperation as he asked for a way to stop the prophecy. He'd felt that desperation turn to anger, then slowly build toward hatred. Dean adored his little brother, and his brother was in trouble. It was understandable that he should develop such strong feeling against the one being who he believed could help him, who he believed _chose _not to help him. Castiel did not want Dean to hate him. He knew he shouldn't care, he was a warrior of Heaven, the Winchester was under his care, but that didn't mean he had to grow attached… no other angel did… Still, he almost couldn't help himself, even knowing what would happen _when_ his superiors found out… not _if_ they found out, _when_. Nothing escaped them. He would be severely punished, but at the moment he didn't care. He just didn't want Dean to hate him, he didn't want to see something so near breaking inside the man. So he explained everything, knowing the witty Winchester would quickly realize he'd just been given the answer to his prayers. "Thanks, Cas" Dean said. "Good Luck" Castiel replied, feeling as if a weight were lifted off his chest, before it was replaced by a steel clamp as he realized what he'd just done: he'd gone against a _ prophecy_… this was not something his brothers would forgive, or forget._

Lucifer smiled, took all the files in his grasp, and placed them back in the cabinet, **After**, he then closed it and opened **Before**. It took Castiel a few files to realize that Dean wasn't in any of these memories, in fact, neither of the Winchesters, nor their friends, were featured in these memories… These memories were all from before Castiel was given the task of pulling Dean from Hell… He blinked up at Lucifer, who studied the memories with interest. "They didn't really miss me… did they?" he said, almost absentmindedly. Castiel once again wondered if he was listening to Lucifer's thoughts, an effect of having his older brother in his mind. "Michael quickly reigned in control of Heaven, Raphael stood loyally at his side, and Zachariah enforced the orders…" he said. He glanced up, locking eyes with Castiel. "You'd think… that the loss of the second oldest archangel… would have been more devastating… than _this_." he said.

Lucifer reached into the very back of the filing cabinet, pulling out a dusty file, though it didn't have so much as a scratch on it. He slowly opened it, eyes flicking to Castiel's face, before they were both flooded by memories.

_"Brother!" Lucifer shouts, as he is thrown to the ground. He is unsure what has struck him; it doesn't even cross his mind that one of his brothers could have done it, it's not possible. He and Michael were glaring at each other, engaged in an intense shouting match, which are common these days, their faces inches apart. Lucifer snarled, turning with a swivel of his heel, disrespectfully and defiantly giving his older brother his back. It all happened so fast after that. He lies on the ground, struggling to pull himself up. He aches all over from the powerful yet nonfatal blow; it takes him a while to even raise his head. He glances up, catching sight of Michael. His older brother is fury itself; his wrath transforms itself into a sword of fire, which he points at Lucifer's throat. His eyes appear cold, but Lucifer knows better, he sees the betrayal in them, and even believes [and hopes] he sees sorrow. "Brother, please" Lucifer says, unsure of what his brother is going to do._

_Michael's lips are pulled back, Lucifer isn't sure if they are meant to be a grimace or a snarl. They tremble. All of Heaven has gathered around the two of them, every angel is frozen, they can hear and feel everything, their internalconnection is strong. They all knew the exact moment the confrontation turned into something more. Their heads are filled with their own distress, millions of angels all clamoring over what they see before him, the two eldest, Michael and Lucifer, with Michael's strongest weapon at his sibling's throat. At the back of their heads one voice rose above the others'; Gabriel's cry is heartbreaking as he pushes his way through the mass of angels to reach his two eldest siblings. _

_"Michael!" the youngest Archangel pled, breaking past the circle of angels. Lucifer glanced up; eyes locking on Gabriel's face, though, at the moment, Gabriel only had eyes for his oldest brother. "Michael, please! Stop!" Gabriel cried. Michael turned to look at the smallest Archangel; his eyes cold; he kept his sword pressed at Lucifer's throat, a single twitch cold cause it to slice through. "They are just words brother" Gabriel said, holding his hands up, in a nonthreatening way. "They pose no real harm, and we both know Lucifer would do nothing to upset Father" he said. It was, after all, obvious that Lucifer was the favorite; he wouldn't want to ruin that. "You should both just cool off, it will all be forgotten by tomorrow, and you will _see_ they were just words" Gabriel said, edging closer._

_Lucifer didn't dare move, or raise his voice to defend himself. Gabriel was wrong, however. They weren't just words; they had stopped being 'just words' long ago. Father was going to give the hairless apes the world, and Heaven. They were worthless, and flawed. How would he bow to them? How could he allow his brothers, each a thousand times better than all of humanity combined, bow to them? Heaven was perfect the way it was. His family was perfect the way it was. He wouldn't allow those apes to enter his home. He'd be lying to himself if he didn't admit that it did bug him that Father paid them more heed than to him. He'd also be lying if he didn't admit that it didn't bother him when Father paid him more attention that his siblings or that he didn't like the idea of Father's new favorites making a home in Heaven. Heaven was _his_! It belonged to angels, God true and __only_children_. This might have begun as petty jealously, but it had grown to so much more. He was not being unreasonable!_

_Gabriel, meanwhile, reached Michael and Lucifer. He slowly placed his flat and open palm over Michael's hand, where it gripped the sword's hilt, and slowly removed it from Lucifer's throat and angled it away. His breath of relief when Michael lowered the sword was apparent to all who watched. Gabriel took a step back, offering his eldest brother an easy and sincere smile, as charming as the rest, Michael relaxed his shoulders and his grip on his lowered sword, and Lucifer tensed, spread his wings, and tackled Michael to the ground._

_The cry of surprise was heard throughout the circle of angels. Some leaped back, or sprung a few feet in the air. Gabriel himself leaped back at Lucifer's sudden attack, eyes wide and face full of horror and disbelief. "Oof!" Michael grunted, wings outstretched, as if to catch wind and break his fall, as he was tackled to the ground. Lucifer landed semi on top of him, rolling, keeping Michael away from his fiery sword, it vanished from sight moments later._

_Lucifer might have acted on impulse, but Michael was furious now. "Those hairless apes don't deserve Heaven" Lucifer hissed. He spread his wings, "And I'm going to make sure they never step foot in our home again" he said, grace radiating off him in waves. It wasn't hard to understand that he met to destroy man, or hurtle them someplace from where they'd never be able to find their way back to Heaven again…. Someplace so foul, it would corrupt their very souls, and no angel would want or dare to bring them never Heaven again. Most angels stiffened, or even backed away a few wing flaps, angels didn't have thoughts like these… Gabriel crouched low to the ground, all his charm withered away, even he, with all his tricks, had no means with which to defuse the never before seen situation. _

_Lucifer glanced back at Michael and smiled "The fighting will stop now, brother. It will disappear along with the humans, you'll see" he said. He stretched his wings farther, his feathers spreading, preparing to lift him off. Michael stood up slowly, eyes unfocused. He closed his eyes, as if in grief, and his flaming sword appeared in his hands. When he opened his eyes again, they were hardened, cold. Gabriel's eyes widened, his entire body went ridged. "No, Michael!" he cried as his own wings spread, preparing to launch him between his two older and more powerful siblings. Raphael took one look at Michael's face as he launched himself at Lucifer, and tackled Gabriel to the ground, the younger archangel's wings getting plastered between them, and beneath his own body, useless, while Raphael crouched over him protectively. _

_Lucifer whirled around in time to meet Michael's assault head on. Lucifer produced his own sword to wield against his brother's and they clashed, their winds creating whirlwinds with their powerful beats. _

_Some angels crouched low, ducking and pulling their huge wings up and over their heads and backs for cover, but most stood stiffly, watching the aerial battle, waiting. This had never happened before, and they had received no new orders, they did not know what they were supposed to do. Garrisons clustered together around their Captains and superiors, unsure of what was going to happen next._

_The battle didn't last long, ending with Michael knocking Lucifer out of the air, and using his own sword to shatter Lucifer's blade. His sword was at Lucifer's throat the next instance. Dark clouds rolled over skies, thunder clapped loudly and lighting flashed. Heaven had never appeared so gloomy. Michael raised his sword high above Lucifer's head, who shut his eyes in anticipation of the coming blow. Instead, Michael sliced deep into the ground, which split open beneath his sword. "Good bye, brother" Michael said, taking a hold of Lucifer's wings, Lucifer's eyes snapped open with shock, but it was too late to struggle, as Michael sliced off his longest feathers, making return to Heaven impossible, and flung him down the rift, casting him out of Heaven. "Until we meet again" he called after him, soft voice nearly inaudible._

_"No!" Gabriel shrieked, struggled futilely underneath Raphael. "Michael, Michael, you can't!" Gabriel pleaded, struggling to wiggle his wings free. "I can" Michael corrected, boring into Gabriel's gaze as he shared Father's words, of Lucifer's fall, and of a prophecy, that both siblings would meet again. Raphael held Gabriel down until Michael finished speaking, then he helped him up himself. Gabriel yanked himself away, though he showed no anger, just grief, and he went to stand on the already healed ground through which Lucifer had been cast out, before the eyes of the entire Host of Heaven._

"We both know what happened that day" Castiel interjected, once Lucifer had closed the folder once more. "Yes, but…something's missing, isn't it?" Lucifer responded, opening the memory once more.

_Michael took hold of Lucifer's wings, slicing off the feathers to make the flight back to Heaven impossible, and flung him down. "No!" Gabriel and Castiel shrieked together, Gabriel struggled futilely underneath Raphael, and Castiel rushing out of the security of his garrison toward the closing rift. "Lucifer!" he cried, nearly out of the throng of angels when a strong hand gripped his arm, yanking him back easily, and a long arm wrapped itself around his waist as Balthazar held him down and pinned his arms to his sides. "Let me go Balthazar!" Castiel commanded with all the authority of a captain, but his brother refused to budge. Hester, Rachel, Uriel, and Inias discreetly surrounded their captain, trying to block his struggles from view. Anael glanced the other way, hoping Castiel's garrison could placate him before Michael noticed. _

_Castiel's knees gave way, so he was mostly held up by Balthazar; he hung his head when the rift closed up completely. Gabriel turned his head away as the rift closed up, not wanting to see his brother vanish forever along with it, and caught Castiel's eye. Castiel tried to look away, but not before noticing Gabriel's sad gaze give him the faintest of smiles for his support. _

_Michael told them of God's plan, of the prophecy, then quickly left the scene, the crowd of angels parting to let him through. Balthazar hauled Castiel to his feet and realized him, hoping his captain would stand on his own. Michael's gaze flicked over him for an instead "Back to your post" he said, not even slowing down. _

_Castiel glanced back down, to where Gabriel mourned alone, head bowed as he stood over the long gone rift. Castiel lowered his eyes, then went back to doing what he did best, follow orders._

"Lucifer, stop!" Castiel commanded, "That's… not how it happened" he objected, wings stiffening behind him. "Oh, but it is." Lucifer said. "You followed orders ever since, who were you to question Father? You even lead you garrison into Hell, to retrieve the first part of the prophecy, Michael's vessel. You stuck by the vessel, protecting him and guiding him, even though all he did was fight you the whole road, and _question _ Father's _will_, because, you had to follow orders." Lucifer said.

"That's not why… that's not how it happened!" Castiel protested once more, but Lucifer ignored him. "You followed your orders… you knew… you'd seen first had what happened when one didn't… and yet… the prophecy lied… The Winchester… the vessel, didn't cooperate… And all our siblings abandoned you" he said. "That is _not_ what happened!" Castiel practically growled. "It is, now" Lucifer corrected him, putting the files away and shoving them behind a door, while had not been then before, then shutting it once more.

"Stop fighting me Castiel" Lucifer said, his tone soft, "I don't want any harm to come to you…" Castiel glanced at the ground, a feeling of hopelessness rising in his chest when his slight movement made the chain rattle. "Just let me heal him" he said. "Let me bring him back, he isn't a threat to you…" he said, his wings shifting to fold neater onto his back. Lucifer simply curved his palm along Castiel's head, threading the tips of his fingers into his hair affectionately. "Lucifer, please!" Castiel plead, one last time. "Shhhh" Lucifer hushed "Time to wake up, Castiel."

***I hope that was a good chapter after such a long wait... I don't think the waits are going to be so long anymore, pretty sure we're going to be spending most of our time reviewing for all the AP, Acts, Sats, and Standardized State Tests [or whatever they are called] for us to get as much homework as before... And drama will be over for the year after the Drama fest and Spring production, do I don't have to stay after school every week. ^-^ ***


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